


False God

by ForForever19



Category: Glee, The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-23
Updated: 2020-07-23
Packaged: 2021-03-05 03:48:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25464250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForForever19/pseuds/ForForever19
Summary: "You look like shit." If Andy's being honest, it's not the first time she's heard those words said to her. The foreign part is that they're said by someone who isn't immortal, and, given the last few days she's had, the last thing she needs is the peanut gallery commenting on her appearance. Accurate as it may be.ORTwo jaded women discuss mortality, God and love over some hot beverages in a French Café.
Relationships: Andy | Andromache of Scythia & Quynh | Noriko, Rachel Berry/Quinn Fabray
Comments: 20
Kudos: 197





	False God

**Disclaimer** : I, by no means, claim to own anything remotely related to the Glee or The Old Guard Universes. No copyright infringement intended.

* * *

 **AN** : I have watched The Old Guard three and a half times in the past few days, and I have a lot of thoughts. This takes place after Andy's visit to the pharmacy.

* * *

**False God**

* * *

"You look like shit."

If Andy's being honest, it's not the first time she's heard those words said to her. The foreign part is that they're said by someone who isn't immortal, and, given the last few days she's had, the last thing she needs is the peanut gallery commenting on her appearance.

Accurate as it may be.

She may look like shit, but she feels worse. Facing her mortality after thousands of years will do that to you.

Still, she looks to the owner of the voice, to find a woman - a teenager, really; a girl - watching her with mildly curious, amused, if not concerned eyes. She's blonde, with eyes hazel like the sea and an intensity in her gaze that makes her appear as if _she's_ the one who's lived for centuries.

"If that's normally how you pick up women, you really need to work on it," Andy finds herself saying, when she should really just ignore the girl. She's had enough human interaction for one day, and she just wants some peace and quiet to gather her thoughts.

She really should have stayed in the car to have her existential crisis.

The girl, for some reason, takes her response as an invitation to slip into the booth across from her. She's obviously foreign, her accent too American to pass for anything else in this part of Europe.

Andy expects her to start talking once she's settled, but she doesn't say a word. Rather, she sets her book on the table - a beaten copy of _Alice in Wonderland_ \- and looks out the window, as if Andy isn't just sitting there. Her shoulders are relaxed, obviously not viewing Andy as some kind of threat, and her expression is soft, open. Unguarded.

It baffles Andy, because she's quite certain there's nothing approachable about her in this moment.

Or, ever.

"What are you doing?" Andy asks after the silence has gone on too long to be normal.

The girl blinks slowly. "Waiting for my coffee," she says. "Did you want something?"

Now, Andy isn't one for small talk - never has been, because talking is something of a waste of breath - but the idea that some strange girl has joined her for no other reason than to join her has set her on high alert. She doesn't think she's in any way linked to Copley, but -

The coffee arrives, and a smile blooms across the girl's face. It makes her look devastatingly young, and Andy closes her eyes at the sight. It's frightening to think this girl has barely lived. She's barely even seen the world. She's barely done anything.

"Maybe some tea," the girl says as she stirs some sugar into her cappuccino. "You're looking pale."

"It's the blood loss," Andy comments, wondering if she could scare this random girl away with the truth.

The girl just hums, and then asks the waiter for some black tea for her _friend_. It's really a wonder how human beings have stayed alive for so long with such trusting impulses. "It's supposed to help with healing, but they say that about nearly everything, these days."

The moment is surreal in a way that her previous interaction in the pharmacy was not. There was a purpose to that which doesn't exist here, she doesn't think. This is just a girl with no boundaries, and Andy is left to wonder if she exists on the good or bad side of humanity.

Perhaps somewhere in the middle.

Andy waits until her tea arrives to remove her hands from beneath the table. They're still a bit bloody and littered with small scratches, which the girl obviously notices but doesn't comment on. It's both unnerving and infuriating, but also a little interesting.

Perhaps she is used to injuries.

To violence.

"Is this what you normally do?" Andy asks, drawing her cup closer to her body and stealing warmth into her bruised fingers.

"What?"

"Annoy random strangers?"

She smiles again, but it's almost a secret this time. "I'm not annoying you," she says, as if she knows it to be true. "And, no, I don't normally just join random strangers."

"Then, why me?"

Hah. If Andy had a dime for every time that question has floated through her mind, she would be richer than she already is.

The girl studies her for a moment. "You look weary," she says.

"Which is better than saying I look like shit," Andy comments.

"And, I figured, if I sat with you, it's less likely other people were going to bother you," she continues as if Andy hasn't even spoken.

"A martyr."

The smile is back. "Thought I'd be selfless, for once in my life."

There's a story there, Andy knows, and she can't quite help her curiosity. This is a girl - a blip in the timeline of the world's existence - but it's for people like her that Andy has continued this fight.

So _she_ won't have to.

"What brings you here?" Andy asks, sipping at her tea and feeling the warm liquid move through her body, reaching her extremities.

"To France, or to this particular Café?"

Andy moves to shrug, but then thinks better of it when she remembers her wounded shoulder. "Both."

The girl lifts her cup to her mouth, pausing for a moment before taking a drink. "France is - well, we're kind of on a graduation trip," she explains. "My two best friends and I thought we deserved something like this, after the year we've had."

Andy almost snorts, because one bad year for her is -

Well, every year can be considered a bad year.

"We started in London," the girl continues. "Then Paris... through to Brussels, Luxembourg, Barcelona, Amsterdam, and now we're here, before returning to London for our flight home."

Andy raises her eyebrows. "Where's home?"

The girl regards her closely. "Ohio."

Andy, at least, got the country correct. "Graduation, from high school?"

She nods. "Well, two of us graduated," she says, sounding sombre. "It's not an ideal situation, but - well - " she stops. "It's kind of why I'm out here right now."

"Oh?"

Her eyes glint with something like mirth. "They're a couple, my two friends, and they're planning on breaking up in the Fall because they're idiots, so I thought they deserved the hotel room to themselves for a couple of hours."

Andy meets her gaze for the first time. "You _are_ a martyr."

"Would a martyr be considering ordering a _Nutella_ crêpe?" she asks, and Andy admires her skills in deflection.

Andy hasn't even glimpsed at the menu, but she suspects it's unlikely she'll find baklava in a tiny French Café. "Hazelnut, huh?"

"I am a sucker," the girl admits. "Especially when you pair it with chocolate." She pauses. "Or coffee." Her eyes get a little wide, and Andy feels the edges of her mouth tug upwards enough to call it a smile.

They descend into silence, the two of them quietly sipping at their beverages. It's still surreal, given Andy normally wouldn't feel comfortable in this kind of setting. Not with a stranger in some foreign Café, but definitely not when they're actively being hunted for merely existing.

"What's your name, Kid?" Andy asks, and her mind flashes to asking the same question of Nile what feels like years ago, but has barely been a few days.

"Quinn."

Andy sucks in a breath, the sound of the name catching her off guard. Familiar heartache blooms in her chest, and she imagines something particular must show on her face, because the girl - _Quinn_ \- leans forward in concern.

"Is everything okay?"

That is a complicated question that Andy doesn't have nearly enough time even to begin to try to answer. "I - " she starts, but doesn't really know what to say. "Your name. It's - it's similar to - just, similar."

Quinn's gaze still carries an intensity that burns. "Someone you lost," she murmurs, reading something in Andy's expression.

To say she has lost Quynh is to say she is lost forever. Forever, for an immortal, is a very long time. It's been centuries since they last searched for her, and the - the news of Nile's dreams makes the loss feel heavier than it has in decades.

In centuries.

"Someone you loved?" Quinn asks.

Andy wouldn't describe what she shared with Quynh as something as trivial as love. It feels childish to say they were in love. Lovers. Together in every sense of the word. It doesn't feel like enough. It barely feels like the tip of the iceberg for what the two of them shared.

It's a wonder she's managed to keep going since.

"Something like that," Andy finally says.

Quinn opens her mouth to say something, but seems to think better of it. After a moment, she asks, "Would you rather have not loved them at all?"

Andy has wondered about that, but, like her immortality, she doesn't think she had much of a choice. Beyond their mutual existence, she and Quynh shared something else. Something deep and profound, transcending this life and all its boundaries.

The Universe decided on their meeting, and the rest, they would say, is -

"No," Andy answers. "What do they say? It is better to have loved and lost, than not to have loved at all?"

A slow grin spreads across Quinn's face. "I'm not _that_ much of a martyr."

Andy's laugh is unexpected, surprising them both. She winces a little at the pain that shoots through her shoulder, but it's worth it just for the look on Quinn's face.

She looks so, so young.

Andy clears her throat, and then sips some of her tea. It's a little lukewarm now, and a little bitter, but she knows to stay hydrated. "Do you have someone?" she asks, sensing the melancholy that surrounds Quinn's initial question. As if she's searching for a real answer to a question that can be considered rhetorical.

Quinn drops her gaze to the cup in front of her. " _Have_ ," she echoes softly. " _I_ do, but - but she doesn't know."

Andy doesn't respond.

"Can you still lose someone you've never even had?" Quinn asks, and Andy reasons she should have an answer to this question. She's been alive long enough to know how to respond, right?

"I don't know."

Quinn hums. "It doesn't feel fair to be heartbroken over something that never even happened," she says. "Like, how do I mourn an _almost_ , you know?"

"With alcohol, probably."

Quinn laughs; this soft, gentle thing, and Andy feels as if this is a girl to be protected from this dark, unforgiving world. "I reckon that's why Santana picked Europe for our trip," she muses. "We can actually drink legally here."

Andy registers the drop of a new name, but she won't pry. She's not really interested in more than the girl sitting before her, anyway, who seems to carry a sadness in her heart that mirrors the one in Andy's.

"Not that I really indulge much," Quinn adds, and she looks thoughtful. "Alcohol hasn't always been kind to me."

Andy sees pain in her eyes that makes her seem older. Wearier. It's not something someone as young as her should experience, and, as much as Andy's convinced herself she doesn't care if the world burns itself to the ground, she still _does_.

Quinn clears her throat, as if catching herself in an unpleasant memory. "The last thing she told me was to enjoy my summer," she says, obviously latching onto another topic that may or may not bring her an equal amount of pain. "We're friends, I guess, but I - sometimes, I get the feeling she's only my friend out of politeness, given our tumultuous history, and that would be worse than - than anything else." She sighs. "Santana thinks the only way to get over someone is to... get under someone else."

Andy smiles. "Your friend sounds smart."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "I'll be sure to let her know the dark, brooding stranger I met at a tiny Café thinks so," she grumbles, and then meets Andy's gaze. "What's your name, anyway?"

Andy knows the power in a name. She has carried hers for millennia, shouldering the burden of being born and dying a warrior with every swing of her axe and every bullet to leave her barrel. "You can call me Andy," she finally says.

Quinn regards her closely. "Not your real name, huh?" she questions. "Quinn isn't mine either."

Andy blinks.

"I kind of hate my real name," she confesses; "so I go by my second."

Andy doesn't hate her name. In fact, she loves it. Andromache of Scythia is a living legend, and who wouldn't want to be remembered as such? "My real name is ancient," she chooses to say, and there's a spark of interest in Quinn's hazel eyes. She's obviously running possible names through her mind, and it's oddly fascinating.

Doubtful she'll guess correctly, though.

"Like you?" Quinn asks, and then answers Andy's confusion with an explanation of, "Ancient?"

Andy acknowledges this is the moment to end this conversation. She should really leave this girl in the dark and return to Booker and Nile. She needs to get some sleep, probably, and rest her body for the fight that's likely to come. She should make an excuse and walk out of here without another word.

What she says, instead, is, "If you could, would you want to live forever?"

To her credit, all Quinn does is widen her eyes as some kind of unspoken truth passes between them. "That - that depends," she finally says.

Andy tilts her head to the side, inviting her to continue.

"Would I have to be alone?" Quinn asks, and isn't that the most important question? Because an ageless eternity sounds all well and good until you realise you have to be alone.

"No," Andy says. "You'll have people."

"Will I be able to have a _person_?"

Andy thinks of Quynh, and then thinks of Joe and Nicky. Booker, who has lost so much, and Nile, who still has people to lose. "If you're lucky," Andy concedes.

Quinn licks her lips. "I wouldn't have to, like, drink blood, would I?"

Andy chuckles, low and amused. "You wouldn't be a vampire, Quinn," she says, almost scolding.

"Just checking, _Andy_ ," Quinn says, looking a little petulant. "So, no super strength? Speed? Can walk in the daylight? I wouldn't be impenetrable?"

"You would be human," Andy says, and the words ring in her head, because she almost forgot that's what she is. Unbreakable, sure, and unable to be killed, but, ultimately, still human.

Still flawed, and still able to hurt and be hurt.

"So, I would still feel pain?" Quinn questions.

Andy nods.

Quinn seems to consider it for a moment, before she finally says, "I don't know."

Andy suspected as much.

"I don't think I would choose it for myself," Quinn elaborates. "But, from the look in your eye, I suspect you never quite have a choice in the matter."

"No, you don't."

"Just what you do with it," Quinn says, and Andy thinks meeting this girl is always going to be an important part of her 6000-year story. Her memory is sketchy at best, and her hippocampus can carry only so much - even if the doctors claim otherwise - so there are a lot of things she's forgotten. This moment won't be one of them.

"What _would_ you do with it?" Andy asks.

Quinn is silent for a while, and Andy appreciates that she's giving it significant thought. As out-of-this-world and crazy as it must all sound to her, she's not calling Andy a delusional drunk.

She's truly considering this hypothetical as if she believes it as truth.

"Is this before or after I freak out?" Quinn asks, smiling as if she's buying herself time.

"After," Andy says. "There are others like you. They would find you. They would help you."

"Help me what?"

"Make sense of it," she says, even though she knows she's done a poor job of doing the same for Nile. They'd all be lost without Nicky - not only Joe. "Figure out who you want to be. What you want to do."

"With forever."

"Forever is a long time," Andy says, acknowledging she's just now reached the end of hers.

Quinn turns her cup around, fiddling with the handle. "I think I'd want to learn things," she confesses quietly. "Languages, definitely. Science, as well. I'd want to educate myself about the world and its wonders and history. Travel places I've never been, meet all the wonderful people on this Earth. Help where I can."

Andy isn't surprised she's said the word as quickly as she has, given what she's come to learn about this unsuspecting girl. "Help how?"

Quinn shrugs. "In any way I can," she says. "If I get to live forever, shouldn't I at least do something good with it? The world has suffered enough, and what sort of person would I be if I took a gift like that and wasted it by using it on just myself?"

It's been so long since Andy considered her immortality a gift. Not since Quynh, at least, because now it is a burden. A forever amount of time to wallow in her losses and regrets and constant, pulsing blame. An endless ride on this carousel that she's sometimes wished would end.

And now it has.

Andy spies the silver cross hanging around Quinn's neck then, and she thinks of Nile again. Of youth and exuberance and fight and the desire to keep living. "Do you believe in God?" Andy asks, curious to know her thoughts and if they're similar to Nile's.

Quinn reaches for her pendant, almost automatically. "I was taught to," she says softly, brow creased in memory. "And, for a while, I lost my Faith, but - but I reclaimed it. In a way."

Andy doesn't believe, at all. She predates modern religion. Ancient religion. Basically all religion. And, as much as she would like to blame religion for the world's problems now, they were fighting battles long before the word of some God was twisted to justify man's selfishness.

"Do you?" Quinn asks.

Andy has had a similar conversation with Nile, though she's sure she didn't handle it all that well. "No," she answers, anyway. "It's difficult to do so, when _you've_ been worshipped as some kind of God yourself."

Quinn's eyes widen, and then she smiles. "I suppose there are worse things to believe in," she concludes, which is some kind of morbid truth. "You seem to make a decent false God."

That's an interesting way to look at it. "But, _why_ do you believe?" Andy asks, curious.

Quinn gets this faraway look in her eye, as if she's thinking of something pleasant. _Someone_. " _She_ exists," she finally says, as if it's explanation enough. "And that is an otherworldly thing."

Andy aches in a way that has nothing to do with the fact she's no longer rapidly healing. It's nothing physical, and that is, perhaps, _why_ she's so exhausted. No amount of sleep can cure her of this particular fatigue.

Quinn drinks the last of her coffee, wincing slightly and setting the cup back on the table as quietly as possible, without even having to try.

"You should tell her," Andy suddenly says.

"What?"

"Life - fuck, life is _way_ too short not to tell the people you love that you love them," she says, because she honestly can't remember telling Quynh those words herself. She deals more in actions, anyway.

And, that's the thing, life _is_ short. If she had actually died when she was meant to the first time, she would have died at this age. She'd barely lived even then, fighting battles even as a mortal, ageing and wasting her life on some kind of crusade to better a world that hasn't even benefited from it.

"You should tell her," Andy repeats, certain of her words. "If not for her, then for yourself, because life is short, but it's also _very long_."

Quinn meets her gaze again. "And, you would know, wouldn't you?"

"I would."

Quinn traps her bottom lip between her teeth, and then says, "She told me to enjoy my summer," she repeats; "and then she said 'Make sure you come back to me,' and I try so hard not to read into that, but - "

"You should definitely tell her."

Quinn puffs out a breath. "She'll probably get on a plane and join us on our trip."

"I'll even pay for her ticket."

Quinn smiles, thinking Andy is joking. "What if I end up losing her as I have her now?" As a friend?" she questions.

"Then you'll have an eternity to nurse your heartbreak."

Quinn gives her an unimpressed look. "And that's worked out so well for you," she comments, which shouldn't be as gutting as it is, but it is.

It hurts.

Quinn immediately backtracks. "I'm sorry."

"No, you're right," Andy says, waving a hand to dismiss the unnecessary apology. "Take it from me, it won't be easy, but you should also take it from me that it's probably going to be worth it."

"And, I'm just supposed to take your word for it?"

"I have lived _a lot_ of life, Kid," she says, and the weariness has crept back into her voice and body and _being_. "I might not know everything, but I know a lot."

Quinn studies her face. "You made sure to learn all you could, as well," she states. "I bet you've seen every corner of this world."

"There are no corners," Andy says with a smile, and she knows their conversation has reached something of an organic end. She doesn't need Quinn to accuse her of 'helping' the world, because they both already know the truth of it.

Which is why Quinn smiles a little knowingly, and then signals for the bill for their drinks. Andy almost offers to pay, but Quinn just shoots her a look that definitely shouldn't alarm a once-immortal mercenary, but it does.

Huh.

Whoever this girl Quinn loves is doesn't stand a chance, does she?

Once the bill is settled, Quinn gathers her book, scarf and coat, and then slides out of the booth. She's graceful in a way that Andy admires, and she wonders what kind of fighter she would be.

It takes Andy a little longer to rise, her body suddenly and painfully feeling her age. It's as if all the deaths she's evaded have just now caught up to her, and she's definitely going to need some good hours of sleep.

Quinn reaches a hand out, as if to offer some help, but then seems to think better of it and retracts her hand. Andy sees it, acknowledges it, and feels a certain warmth spread through her chest.

Maybe there's hope for humanity yet.

Andy follows Quinn out of the Café, the chill of the air hitting her quite suddenly, and she wraps her large coat tighter around her body. A shiver works its way through her body as she steps out onto the sidewalk, stopping about a metre from the door when Quinn comes to a standstill.

"Here," Quinn says, stepping close and wrapping her own unravelled scarf around Andy's neck. She seems to make a point not to touch Andy in any way as she secures the wool in position. "You'd think, after an eternity, you'd have more of a tan," she says with a smile.

Andy rolls her eyes. "I told you; it's the blood - "

"Loss," Quinn finishes, stepping back again. "I remember." Her head tilts to the side. "You should really be more careful," she warns. "I gather you still have work to do."

 _Don't we all_?

"What's your real name?" Andy asks after a brief silence, her feet planted on the sidewalk, her senses on alert for any kind of danger lurking in the shadows.

Quinn gives her a look that could be described as coy. "I'll tell you mine, if you tell me yours," she challenges lightly.

Andy considers the dangers of such a thing, given the situation they've found themselves in with regards to Copley, but Quinn is different. She's learned that much. "Andromache," she says, almost whispering. "The Scythian."

Quinn blinks, clearly not sure what to do with the information she's just been given. "You don't even have a surname," is what she finally says.

"I told you," Andy muses, relaxing slightly. "Ancient."

Quinn smiles in something like wonder, and then confesses, "My name is Lucy."

"Lucy," Andy echoes, testing the name on her tongue. "Is that what you'll be remembered by when you inevitably change the world?"

Quinn frowns. "Why do you say that?"

Andy believes it with every fibre of her being when she answers, "Because you will."

"But, why?"

"You know pain," Andy explains. "And, those who know pain, they rarely wish to cause it."

Quinn shakes her head. "What does that have to do with changing the world?"

"Because, from time to time, a person comes along, who knows pain, and so dedicates their life to making sure as few people suffer the same," Andy explains. "I know we've just met, but I believe you are one of those people." She breathes deeply, sensing the end to their time together. "You are going to change the world, Lucy Quinn. My one wish for you is that you are alive long enough to see it."

Quinn looks equally as uncomfortable with the sentiment that has flooded their interaction as Andy feels, and she makes a point of saying, "I'm going to live forever, remember?"

Andy looks into the street, her expression softening slightly as her mind drifts to some place far, far away. "Nobody lives forever," she murmurs, mostly to herself. "Especially not a martyr."

* * *

§

* * *

They meet again, by accident, but maybe also by the Universe's design.

The team doesn't have a permanent base, given their experiences with resisting capture in this modern world, but they do make a point to come into London to see Copley every few months. Most of their communication is made using secure lines, but there's something different about an in-person conversation.

Andy secretly thinks Copley looks forward to their visits.

Nile _knows_ he does. She's always been the one he's closest to, both of them having grown up in this day and age. They understand each other in ways Andy figures aren't meant for her.

It's times like these that she really misses Booker.

When they meet, it's something of a day off for them. The last they'll have for a while, given Copley is sending them into the heart of a horrid human rights violation in the middle of Africa for the next however long it takes.

While Andy remembers Quinn fondly, she's never tried to go looking for her. She's contemplated keeping tabs on her over the years, but, like Nile, she's decided it's best to leave 'Before Copley' - as Joe has come to call it - behind, and that's where Quinn exists.

Which is why it's something of a pleasant and unexpected surprise when Andy sees her on a random street in the West End. The city is quieter than one would expect, and the probability of bumping into anyone Andy knows is minuscule. Practically impossible.

So, of course, it happens.

Quinn is older, but so is Andy. She's taller, maybe, or just appears that way, based on the way she now carries herself. She's wrapped up against the cold, a woollen hat on her head and a scarf around her neck that could almost be the twin to the one she gave Andy. A scarf that Andy has kept with her through the years, travelling with it and refusing to explain its origins.

Quinn doesn't notice her at first, her steps purposeful as she navigates the sidewalk, and Andy is allowed the opportunity to study her at a safe distance.

Then Quinn looks up, as if she can sense Andy's gaze, spotting her standing against a lamppost, and her steps falter, but do not stop. Her eyes widen in recognition, and she closes the space between them in a few quick strides.

The first thing Quinn says is, "Still look like shit, I see," and Andy bursts out laughing, because she should have known Quinn would lead with something like that.

"I made sure to get a tan just for you," Andy says.

Quinn grins. "Such a martyr," she comments. Then, quietly and more confidentially, she asks, "What are you doing here?"

"Visiting a museum," she answers, which may or may not be the truth.

"Still learning, huh?"

Andy shrugs, and then notices the ring on the fourth finger of Quinn's left hand for the first time. She resists the urge to ask about it, choosing rather to go with, "What are _you_ doing here?"

Quite significantly, Quinn actually blushes. "I'm actually going to pick up my wife," she admits, her mouth pulling into a soft smile. "She's performing."

"Anything I would have seen?"

"I thought you've seen everything."

Andy smiles, because her smiles come easier these days. "I might catch a show," she says. "What should I be watching?"

" _The Devil Wears Prada_ ," Quinn says, her smile turning sly. "She plays the character Andy."

That gets an eye-roll out of Andy, because of course she is. But. "Is she - " she starts to ask, but needn't bother finishing.

Quinn nods, anyway. "I told her as soon as we were back Stateside, and, yeah, we've been together ever since. Got married last year."

"I'm not going to say I told you so, but - "

Quinn interrupts with, "Sometimes, I convinced myself I dreamed you."

Andy cocks her head to the side. "You wouldn't be the first woman to do that."

Quinn ignores her. "But you're real."

"Extremely so," Andy says, harbouring some bitterness at the fact she's now mortal. It comes and goes, more so when she ends up injured, but she's accepted her fate.

When her time comes, it will come, and she'll welcome it.

Andy has questions, but she can't bring herself to ask them. The idea that they're here now, two random people in an ocean of billions of human beings, is monumental.

Quinn stares right back at her, studying her closely. "I did some research on you," she finally says. "Andromache the Scythian."

"And?"

"And _nothing_ ," Quinn says with a roll of her eyes. "But, you already know that."

Andy remains silent, knowing that Copley was able to scrub the internet of any reference to her. One day, maybe, when she's gone, he'll populate the world with stories once more, but it's safer this way. "Sorry," she says, but she's really not.

"I tried to tell her about you," Quinn admits.

"Does she believe you?"

"She says she does, but she always looks at me like I've lost the plot a little," Quinn admits. "It's okay, though. I kind of like that my immortal relationship advisor has remained mine."

"It's a wonder she hasn't had you committed yet."

"She loves me too much."

They're both lighter than they were nearly a decade ago. The weight seems to have lifted from Quinn's shoulders, and Andy isn't as burdened with the terrors of the world. What a difference a few years can make.

What a difference _love_ and _purpose_ can also make.

"Is Lucy Quinn changing the world?" Andy finds herself asking.

Quinn shakes her head. "Not noticeably, at least."

"What do you do, Quinn?"

Quinn looks a little bashful, her gaze dropping to the ground. "I'm actually a surgeon," she confesses. "Training in Paediatrics."

Andy's battered heart swells at the truth that Quinn really has dedicated her life to helping others. It was never in doubt, of course, but the proof fills her with something like warmth.

A sense that all humanity isn't lost.

Andy doesn't think she needed the reminder today of all days, but she'll take all the signs she can. She's not yet discouraged with this world, but the day really is still young, so anything could still happen.

"Would you answer differently now?" Andy asks after a moment. "If you could live forever, would you want to?"

Quinn barely gives it a second thought before she answers, "No."

Andy expected it, but she still asks, "Why?"

"Well, firstly, I don't think you and I would play well on the same team," she says, which is probably true.

"And secondly?"

Quinn lifts a shoulder. "I reckon the world's already got a martyr to guard it," she says. "What does it need me for?"

Andy thinks about Nile, who has grown into the role Andy is bound to vacate. She wears leadership very well, and Andy's pride in her accomplishments over the years isn't something she tries to hide anymore. "Is there a thirdly?"

Quinn hums, absently glancing at the watch on her wrist for the time, which helps Andy predict her next response. "I do not what to spend a single second on this Earth without her," she confesses, her voice quiet but firm. "That kind of life isn't something I'd deem worth living."

"What if you didn't have a choice?" Andy presents, because that has always been the painful companion to their immortality. They never had a choice, and she and Booker spent far too many years being _stuck_ on the unfairness of it all.

Quinn smiles like it's a secret. "Well, then, I guess the world would have to learn how to deal with another broody, heartbroken martyr for another eternity."

Andy wouldn't really call herself heartbroken anymore, but that's a story for another time. Or never. As much as the Universe has conspired to make this second meeting possible, Andy is suddenly certain there won't be a third. Whether it's that her time comes before they have a chance, or that they've altered each other's lives enough to be significant for this lifetime, she doesn't know.

What she does know, though, when she watches Quinn eventually continue on her way to meet her wife, is that, whatever Quinn does end up accomplishing in her life beyond this moment; she's _already_ changed the world in whatever tiny way.

She's changed _Andy_ , and that's practically the same thing.

Andy smiles to herself at the thought, her head tilting back to look at the sky. Huh. She still doesn't _believe_ , not really, but the past few years with Nile and her brief time with Quinn have made her curious. Has made her wonder that bit more about their origins and their purpose. Much to Nicky's delight, Joe's amusement, and Nile's smugness she doesn't bother to hide.

She's _almost_ glad she doesn't actually have to spend an eternity with those children.

Almost.

Approaching footsteps register behind her, before a voice says, "You might _think_ you have a tan, but you've seriously got some work to do."

Andy turns to find Quinn standing there, her own scarf in her hands and a sneaky little smile on her face. Andy doesn't move a muscle as Quinn, once again, fixes the soft woollen scarf around her neck, still careful not to touch her.

"What?" Quinn queries. "No blaming your perpetual paleness on blood loss?"

"What are you doing?" Andy asks.

Quinn breathes out slowly. "I wanted to tell you something," she says, her tone careful and purposeful. "I was just on my way to see the literal love of my life, and I - I had the thought that I'm probably, definitely, never going to see you again, so I thought - well, I just wanted to tell you… thank you." She clears her throat, looking mildly uncomfortable. "Not only for what you've done for me - which, honestly, I couldn't even begin to explain to you - but also for what you've done for the world." She wrings her fingers together in something of an uncharacteristic display of nerves. "I _know_ you don't do it for recognition or gratitude, but I figure you might be owed some, after all this time. Seeing as you're ancient and all."

Andy honestly has no idea what to say in response.

Quinn just smiles a little too knowingly. "Do I have to tell you to be more careful, again?"

Andy shakes her head.

Quinn eyes her carefully for a moment, and then places a steadying hand on Andy's shoulder before lifting herself onto her toes and pressing a gentle kiss to Andy's cheek. "You still have work to do," Quinn reminds her as she pulls back, eyes holding that intensity they did when she was still a teenager. "We both do."

Andy audibly swallows, throughly _thrown_ by this meeting, once again. "You have too much faith," she comments, trying to deflect.

"In you," Quinn says with a nod. "Definitely."

"All this belief in the supernatural," Andy says; "it's a wonder they still allow you to walk among us."

"Us?" Quinn questions, hearing something very specific in the inflection of Andy's words.

"I am but a mere mortal, Lucy Quinn," Andy assures her.

Quinn tilts her head to the side, studying her closely. And critically. "No, you're not," she finally says, the truth of her final, parting words heavy in the air between them. Because there is nothing _mere_ about Andromache the Scythian, and they are both certain of it, whether she is immortal or not.

After all, she is a false God.

* * *

_Fin_


End file.
